


I Woke Up at the Moment When the Miracle Occurred

by Kiwi1018



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ben Solo Deserved Better, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Bendemption, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Dyad (Star Wars), Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Kylo Ren Redemption, Not Canon Compliant - Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, POV Rey (Star Wars), Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Reylo - Freeform, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Fix-It, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, The Force Ships It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25742344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiwi1018/pseuds/Kiwi1018
Summary: When the Resistance receives valuable intel from a source within the First Order, Rey sets out to discover who it is, even though it means re-opening her Force bond with Kylo Ren, which has been dormant since Crait.(Spoiler alert: it’s not Hux)
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Leia Organa & Ben Solo, Leia Organa & Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 34
Kudos: 87
Collections: TROS Reylo Fix-it Fics, The Rise of Skywalker: Fix-It Fic Edition





	I Woke Up at the Moment When the Miracle Occurred

“We have a spy,” Poe spits out.

“What?” Rey is caught off guard, still mentally tallying what it will take to fix _both_ sub-alternators on the _Falcon_.

“Yeah. A mole, in the First Order. Someone high ranking by the sound of it.” He brushes by her, heading for the main hangar, or what passes for it, in the Resistance’s refuge on the jungle moon of Ajan Kloss.

For just a beat her heart stops, breath caught in her throat. The sudden weakness in her limbs has nothing to do with her recent run through the training course or the unsettling, oddly intimate vision that had interrupted it. _Could it be-_

 _No_. She throttles the thought before she has to choose a name for the face that flashes through her mind... Soulful eyes, conflicted spirit.

_Join me. Please._

“Who?” She darts after him, trying to catch up.

“How should I know? But if they’re right... things just went from bad to way worse. Palpatine is back.”

“What?” She sputters, grabbing his sleeve. “Palpatine, the emperor?”

“I don’t know of any other, do you?” Poe retorts.

Rey drops his arm, stunned, looking helplessly at Finn, who shrugs. “Sounds like that transmission _was_ legit,” he says, hurrying after Poe.

They had been _sure_ the mysterious galaxy-wide message, proclaiming the start of a new age of the Sith, was a hoax, fear-mongering in a weary populace ravaged by war. But if it was real...

Activity on the base swirls around her, a new urgency in the air, but Rey stops, stalled in this moment by a revelation. The ominous vision she’d seen while training... What if it was... _Kylo Ren_ , she tells herself sternly, stifling the mutinous whisper of her heart. _His name is Kylo Ren. He made his choice._

But what if he was trying to contact her? What if he needed... _what_? Why would he reach out to her after so long? They haven’t been connected since Crait, nearly a year ago. That final glimpse, from the ramp of the _Falcon_ , the pain in his eyes mirroring the rend in her own heart. A hollow victory for them both.

The fact that their connection persisted even after Snoke’s death was proof that what was between them went beyond whatever he had planned, but going forward it could only bring pain, destruction. They were on opposite sides of a war. She’d been foolish to think otherwise. And so she’d worked hard to close her mind, to keep him out, and he’d seemed to have done the same.

But no matter how hard she trained, how much she worked, busy days still left too many quiet nights, when she’s lain awake, that familiar loneliness creeping in between the beats of her heart... She made the right decision, to walk away from his offer, to reject his hand... she could _never_ join the First Order. How naive of her, to think it would be that simple for him to leave.

But what if... what if something has changed?

———

Decoding the message in it’s entirety only confirms the worst. It’s succinct but thorough, substantiating Palpatine’s return, detailing timelines, fleet strength, weapons capabilities...

The briefing lasts through the afternoon, circular discussions of the Unknown Regions, speculations about Dark science, cloning... The picture is bleak, but still Rey can’t shake the flickering hope in her heart. It makes her jittery, coursing through her veins, unsettling her soul.

Finally, late in the day, Rose voices the question that’s been haunting them all. “Why are they giving us this information? Is it a threat or a warning?”

“It’s a call for help,” Leia says, resolute with conviction. With certainty. “Whoever this is...” Rey meets her gaze, seeing in those dark eyes, _his_ eyes, the same fragile hope that stirs in her own soul... “They’re afraid.”

A mole in the First Order. An ally. Now, when they need it most. The implications... the opportunities.

Rey’s heart flutters in her chest, igniting embers she’d thought long dead, snuffed out under the quiet ache that’s been her constant companion this last year. If Leia still believes in _him_ , her own son, after everything he’s done... that there could still be good in him...

Rey knows, _of course_ she knows, how unlikely it is, that _he_ would... but the hope, the longing, is undeterred. And though she spends the rest of the day rationalizing, explaining to herself why it’s impossible, why it makes _no sense_ , why there’s _no_ reason to think that he would _ever_... the hope remains.

Later, showing Leia the notes about Exegol in Luke’s journals, considering next steps... she is practically bursting to ask her mentor if she’s felt _anything_ from her son. But they rarely speak of him. Since their short, unsatisfying conversation on the _Falcon_ , leaving Crait, they refer to him only by his chosen name, and only when necessary. To ask now... it seems cruel to raise false hope, in this most desperate hour.

Sometimes, when they are bent together over old holos of lightsaber forms, or drilling new techniques, both knowing there’s only one person in the galaxy she is preparing to face, Rey looks at her master, still so steadfast after a lifetime of war, having survived so many wounds, seen and unseen, and wonders, _How do you do it? How do you train someone to kill your own son?_

It’s a mystery to Rey, what Leia knows, or suspects. Chewie must have told her the story eventually: the escape pod, the _Supremacy_ , their mutual but unspoken disappointment when she’d returned to the _Falcon_ without _him_. But perhaps not. He’s been so protective of Leia, since Han... staying on with the Resistance, keeping close at hand... and Rey supposes the old Wookiee must know a thing or two about hollow hopes.

But here, now, tonight, Leia offers no elaboration on their fleeting moment of understanding. Perhaps Rey had only imagined it.

But if it is _him_... Rey has to know.

She’s been disappointed by him before. She can handle it again.

————

The evening meal is a tense gathering, heavy with anxiety and the hum of hushed discussion. Afterward, the usual pockets of drinks and pickup games are smaller, subdued and introspective, and Rey slips away into the jungle. She feels Finn and Rose’s curiosity, but they follow her only with their eyes. She doesn’t look back.

As she picks her way through vines and branches, she finally admits to herself that she has no idea what she’s doing. She worked _so hard_ to set the barriers between them. The vision this afternoon, if it was even him, was the first breach they’ve had. Why does she want to risk opening that door again?

She settles finally in a small clearing out past the landing field, and takes a moment, leaning her back against a log, to gaze up at the slowly darkening sky, wondering how to begin. She smiles ruefully at the phrase that comes to mind.

_Be with me._

_Be with me._

Closing her eyes, she imagines the wall in her mind that blocks off their connection, painstakingly built over weeks of meditation, of discipline... and begins dismantling the barrier brick by brick, one by one, until shards of light begin to break through. Until he is standing before her.

  
—————

Kylo Ren is at first just a shadow in the gathering twilight. Facing away from her, his raven hair and sable surcoat paint him a wraith in darkness. She stands, relief flooding her at the sight of him, just for a moment, until his broad shoulders stiffen, gloved hands fisting at his sides.

She waits through one breath, two, and then he turns with heavy steps, his face unmasked, but blank and unyielding as steel. As though this is nothing, she is nothing, and the fact that she’s just appeared to him after a year apart means nothing to him. To either of them.

He looks just as she remembers: formal and imposing, all sharp lines and placid planes, interrupted only by the scar, faded but still clear. Outward evidence of the rend in his soul, split the day he sacrificed his father to the Dark side. _I saw Light through those cracks once, Ben. Tell me it’s still there. Tell me it’s not too late._

He is silent, regarding her, and her pride at opening their connection at will is dampened by the indifference in his gaze. She doesn’t know where to begin, how to do this again, with him, after so long.

“You got my message,” he says finally, voice smooth, face impassive. Does he mean the message to the Resistance? Her heart thumps in her chest. Or the vision?

“What message?” she asks, not wanting to give anything away, trying to hold on to equilibrium, to maintain the upper hand. She isn’t the lost, uncertain girl from a year ago. She is a Jedi. Or as good as.

He cocks his head, just the slightest tilt of confusion, a nearly imperceptible furrow in his brow, and she would crow in victory if she wasn’t so focused on matching his insouciance. But then he huffs, the lightest puff of breath, and she would swear by a month’s rations that he almost _smirks_.

“You can’t hide from me, Rey,” he says calmly.

“It seems I have, actually. It’s been almost a year.” She doesn’t work too hard to keep the pride out of her voice.

“So this is a social call?” he suggests indolently, and she can’t decided whether that insufferable _arrogance_ makes her want to laugh or grind her teeth.

By the grace of her training, she does neither. “I’m sure you’ve heard, about... Palpatine,” she says steadily.

He pauses again, inscrutable, but then he swallows hard, and she sees it, the slightest twitch under his left eye. His tell. _Ben’s_ tell. Flashing lights and wailing klaxons couldn’t make it any more obvious.

“I have...” he says slowly, a hint of uncertainty wavering in his voice, as if deciding whether to say more.

“It’s true, then,” she asks. “He’s alive?”

Kylo nods, once, curtly.

“How?” she asks desperately. She’s heard the tales of his reign, seen firsthand the graveyard of his Empire. Dead, buried. Done.

Kylo shakes his head, impatient. “I don’t know. But that doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter!?” she exclaims. “Then tell me what _does_ matter!”

“He wants you dead, Rey,” he spits out, his voice hitching on her name. For a moment, a heartbeat, his maddening, impassive _facade_ slips, and he runs a hand over his face, as though he can physically restrain the emotions seeping through the cracks.

“Why?” she asks, more bewildered than frightened. “What could he want with me? I can’t possibly be a threat to him!”

Kylo hesitates again, longer this time, holding her gaze, and as the silence stretches between them it becomes clear that he’s hiding something. She’s startled by the realization that he might try to _lie_ to her. Fear blooms in her chest. He’s never lied to her.

Finally he seems to concede whatever battle rages within him, settling on, “He has his reasons.”

“Reasons...” she echoes, mind whirling, pulse racing, and then understanding hits like a durasteel wall. “And he wants you to do it. To kill me.”

He takes a sudden step toward her, dark eyes blazing. “I’ll not serve another master,” he says harshly. He works his jaw, looking away. “I have other plans. I can’t...” he trails off, pursing his lips into a frown. “We can stop him, together. We’re the only ones who can.”

“I won’t join the First Order,” she responds, a reflex, without heat, but without regret.

He nods, as though this was the response he was expecting, but takes another step forward, his gaze intense, holding her fast. “This is about more than the First Order, Rey. Palpatine... he’s offering me the Throne of the Sith... but...” He works his jaw as though the next words are gravel, ground out between his teeth. “That’s not the legacy I want.”

Her breath catches in surprise, though she tries to put derision in her tone. “I thought that’s all you wanted... to be stronger than Darth Vader.”

He frowns, still struggling with the words. “The price is too high,” he finally confesses, desperation clouding his face.

“What price?” She demands.

“You!” he barks. “You’re his price.” Kylo stops here, clearly troubled, collecting himself before continuing, almost musing to himself. “Even then, he’s not just going to give it over to me, I know that. There’s something else, something more that I can’t see...” he stops, looking at Rey with fire in his eyes. “I gave everything to the Dark side...everything. And it still wasn't enough. It’s never enough.”

He looks suddenly so much younger than she’s ever seen him. “After...Crait... I had everything I’d ever wanted... everything I’d worked for... I was free,” he says wonderingly. Then he darkens. “And it meant nothing. Once I finally looked around... all I saw were ashes. And when Palpatine offered... promised, that for just _one more_ sacrifice... I heard Snoke all over again. All I could give, it would never be enough.”

His despair washes over her as she waits with baited breath, his words fanning the embers of hope in her heart, threatening to combust. To consume her.

“Rey.” He starts again, softening. “I’ve thought about it, so much, over this past year. What I wish I’d done, said...” he clenches his jaw, as though to stop himself from revealing too much, but then he regroups, changing direction.

“We need order in the galaxy,” he insists, stubborn as ever, “but Palpatine... his way is not the answer.” Kylo frowns, working his jaw. “My generals don’t trust me. I don’t trust them either,” he admits, and she almost smiles at the dry honesty in his voice. “He has a lot of support in the Order. The loss of the _Supremacy_ was crippling. They’re demanding that I take his offer, rebuild a true empire. If I ignore them, there’ll be mutiny, and his ideology, his methods, will run rampant across the galaxy anyway. They fear me, my power, but... they’ll welcome Palpatine with open arms.”

“They don’t understand, about the Dark Side, what it requires. What it demands. And I’m _done_ being a slave.” Kylo pauses, chest heaving, gasping for breath, as pain, anger, _fear_ swirl in the Force around him.

“And you need my help to kill him, so you can take the throne, unchallenged?” Rey can’t keep the weary ache out of her voice.

“No!” He steps closer. “This isn't about that. I don’t want his throne... not like that,” he insists.

“The past does need to die. But... the past isn’t what I thought it was.” He inhales a tense breath, as though the very act is a strain. “My whole life, Rey, he’s been using me... manipulating me. He said... that he’s been every voice I’ve ever heard in my head.” Kylo’s voice is impossibly soft, aching, the cry of a boy betrayed by everyone he’s ever trusted. “That he was Snoke, and Vader. He’s been doing this for generations. Tormenting us... my family... the galaxy. It has to stop. Everything he’s taken from me... it’s too much. I can’t let Palpatine destroy another generation.”

 _Or you,_ a dulcet voice whispers in her head, though surely it’s her own imagination.

She steps back, surprised, tentative, afraid again of the way his words sow hope in her heart.

“That’s why I sent that information. To the Resistance,” he urges.

“It was you,” she breathes, knees weak. “ _Ben_...” his name on her lips is a whisper, hope taking wing.

His only acknowledgement of the name is an impatient wave of his hand, dismissive. “This isn’t about... that. This is bigger than the war. If Palpatine... gets what he wants... there won’t be anything left worth fighting for.”

“But we can do this, Rey, we can defeat him, together, and you’ll see...” He’s fervent again, empowered by purpose, his eyes glittering. “I could change things, in the First Order, for the galaxy. I would,” he insists. “If you wanted that,” he adds, cheeks flushing. As though embarrassed to be caught... _dreaming_.

His sincerity cuts through her soul like a ray of light, a miracle brought to life. So many hopes, unspoken, unacknowledged even to herself, laid out before her.

 _I do_. She can’t breathe, can barely think. _I do want that._

“Don’t answer now, “ he says quickly. “You were right not to take my hand, then. But perhaps...” he shrugs, looking oddly vulnerable. “Perhaps things can change. Let me show you.”

Then he blinks, and that wry arrogance returns. “I’ve seen you at my side, Rey. And I know you’ve seen it too. We’ll stand together.”

She frowns, suddenly irritated, frustrated. _Afraid_. “We’ve been here before, Ben, you and I. What’s changed? Why should I trust you now?”

The hurt that crosses his face is unmistakable, but quickly smothered. “Does the Resistance doubt my information? Or do _you_ doubt _me_?” he asks with a sneer, lapsing quickly into derision. His most favored mask.

“I...” she hesitates. _I don’t want to get hurt again. I don’t want my friends to die._

He sucks in a harsh breath, clenching futile fists. Then he stops, straightening, all the fight evaporating. “I know where you are, Rey,” he says mildly.

She stills, eyes widening in fear as he continues softly, indifferent. “It’s...” he’s careful not to say the name, “an old... Alderaanian outpost. My mother is nothing if not predictable. And I imagine systems willing to harbor rebels are few and far between, these days.”

“Don’t ask me to trust you and then threaten me,” she shoots back.

He looks momentarily chagrined, then drops his shoulders, his face softening. Penitent.

“It’s not a threat, Rey, it’s a fact. I’ve known for... a long time. If I wanted to find you, before, I would have.”

She wants to believe him. “Then why haven’t you?”

“Because you’re nothing,” he bites out, then flinches. “I mean, the Resistance is no longer a threat to the First Order. That was the... assessment of my generals, after Crait. Hux tried to make it out as my failure, but... the end result was accomplished. You’d been dismissed.”

She’s confused, considering, and then— “And you let them continue thinking that. You... let us go.”

He shrugs. “But I don’t blame you, doubting me. Go ahead,” he steps closer, close enough that she could reach out and... “Look into my mind,” he says earnestly. “Take whatever you need.”

She holds his gaze, considering, but the truth is written across his face, it’s resonant in every thread that stretches between them, through this strange bond they share. “I don’t need to,” she says finally. “I trust you.” It settles between them like a benediction. Like a promise.

“Good,” he nods, straightening. “The information is sound, as are my intentions. Though you may regret it,” he admits. “This is going to be... difficult. It could fail and still cost you... everything.”

“Nothing worth having doesn’t come with some risk,” she says quietly. “And, as you say, everything worth having would be lost anyway.”

“And what about you? It’s treason, Ben,” she says, suddenly afraid for him.

“Against who?” He asks bitterly. “I’m the Supreme Leader. It’s mine to decide what purpose best serves the galaxy. _Mine_.” His tone is decisive, but frustration and futility bleed between his words. “Palpatine must be stopped. And only you and I can do it.”

“Ben...,” she hardly knows where to begin, so many questions swirl in her mind. “If this was your plan, if it was my help you wanted... why didn’t you... contact me directly?”

“Would you have... allowed that?” he asks skeptically.

“I... I don’t know,” she says honestly. “I was so angry, so disappointed, after...”

He nods, confident in his assumption. “And what would the Resistance have thought of the information, coming directly from you? Wouldn’t they have questioned how you were suddenly in possession of a traitorous message from a First Order mole?” He swallows, voice dropping. “Would you tell them about your... connection... to their worst enemy?”

 _I’m not your enemy,_ her heart whispers.

She nods. “Right.”

“Exactly.” He pauses, and in the silence her words come almost unbidden, soft and sincere. “Thank you.”

He blinks, surprised, but she’s not imagining the softening in his gaze, the warmth, the _hope_ , in his eyes, as he nods again.

“I’ve established several contacts, through various sources. When I have more information, you’ll get it.”

“And,” she ventures, “You can... contact me. Directly. If you want to.”

“Yes?” He asks, that disbelieving hope flickering again across his furrowed brow.

She nods, giving him an encouraging smile. “So we can come up with a plan.” The relief that swirls around them in the Force is evident on his face. Then he frowns, deliberately wiping his expression.

“I’m going to rebuild the mask,” he confesses. “If this is going to work... I can’t risk giving anything away.”

She frowns at the memory of that chrome and obsidian horror, but the pain, the despair that flash across his face are all too obvious, and she nods, understanding.

“Of course. That’s.. a good idea.” At her agreement his shoulders sag, almost imperceptibly. The breath he huffs is clearly relief.

“And I,” she says slowly, already anticipating his response. “I need to tell... your mother. She has to know.”

“No.” His retort is reflexive. “This isn’t... I’m not doing this for the Resistance. I’m not coming back to her. To the Light. I can’t.” He shakes his head. “You’d only be raising her hopes. I’ve hurt her enough already,” he says quietly.

She nods, keeping her face neutral, even as her heart sings at his stubborn, almost petulant, insistence. “I understand... but she should know. She’s stronger than you think. And it will make it easier.”

He nods once, shortly. “Fine. If you must. But no one else.” He swallows, and for a moment fear flashes through his eyes. “This is dangerous, Rey. For both of us. Especially for you, doing this,” he gestures between them, “with me.”

Rey nods. “She’ll understand. The others won’t,” she concedes. “But I can handle it. But what about you? If you get caught...”

“I have contingencies in place.” He pauses, then, “I’m not a traitor, Rey,” he says, his voice tight. “Palpatine has to be stopped. Or nothing that comes after will mean anything.”

She nods over the sudden lump in her throat. _After_... “We’re really doing this?” She can’t hide the wonder in her voice, the awe. The Force hums around them, an echo of the synergy they’d felt in Snoke’s throne room.

He nods, endearingly earnest again. “I knew the time would come when you’d stand with me, Rey.”

She nods, unable, no, _unwilling_ to suppress the smile on her face, the teasing lilt in her tone. “I knew you’d turn, one way or another, Ben.”

He narrows his eyes at her, seeming on the brink of a challenge, but instead he shakes his head, the gleam in his eyes unmistakably rueful. Then he swallows, stepping close, so close now that she can see the silver glint of moonlight in his hair. As if he were really here with her, standing under these same stars. Slowly, his eyes locked on hers, he reaches with his right hand to remove the glove from his left, finger by finger. Rey stills, breath caught in her throat, as he reaches out, bringing his hand slowly to her face. His fingers curl lightly against the curve of her jaw, and that live-wire electricity courses through their bond as his thumb brushes her cheek, catching the tear just as it spills from her eye.

“I thought for so long... that it was too late,” he murmurs, his long, cool fingers trailing gently, almost reverently down her neck as he withdraws his hand.

Rey releases the breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “It isn’t.”

Doubt flashes across his face, but he nods, once. “I’ll see you again soon.”

“Okay. Soon.” She closes her eyes, wanting to hold onto this moment where everything seems clear and right and possible. When she opens them again, he’s gone.

——————

Rey turns into the night, heading quickly back to the base, her mind a whirl, her heart near to bursting with _hope_ and _possibility_. Though beyond conscious thought, she is unsurprised to find herself at Leia’s quarters. The door opens under her knock.

“Rey. What’s wrong?” Leia’s concern is evident though the late hour does nothing to diminish her composure.

“Master... General,” she sighs, the tension of the past hours finally spilling over. “Leia. I know who the mole is. Who’s helping us.” A grin breaks across her face, fed by the joy bubbling up in her heart.

Leia gasps, bringing a hand to her chest, disbelief, fear, _hope_ radiating from her. “It... isn’t.” She sags slightly against the door frame.

“It is,” Rey beams. “It’s him.”

________________________

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea that has been rattling around in my head for a while, but was given a kick into overdrive by For You I Would Ruin Myself, by Ben_Solo_Good_Boy_Sweater_Emporium. If you haven’t read their works, check them out. They are excellent!
> 
> ————  
> Rey and Leia’s conversation onboard the Falcon leaving Crait is in Resistance Reborn by Rebecca Roanhorse.
> 
> ————  
> Shout out to my 12-year-old daughter for beta-ing! Any and all mistakes are totally and completely her fault 😉 😘
> 
> ————  
> Title is a line from U2, Songs of Innocence.


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